


Beat the Reaper

by tikistitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 18:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tikistitch/pseuds/tikistitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is meddling with the Reapers.  Dean gets to check up on a childhood idol to find out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Title: Beat the Reaper  
Fandom: Supernatural  
Author: tikistitch  
Rating: PG-13   
Characters: Sam, Dean, Death, Castiel  
Warnings: Cursing. OFC: she’s not paired with anyone, but if that’s the kind of think you hate, you’ll hate that kind of thing. Also, some pretty dark humor in this one.   
Word Count: 10,000 total  
Summary: Someone is meddling with the Reapers. Dean gets to check up on a childhood idol to find out why.   
Notes: I like SPN's version of Death, so I wrote him a little bit of a backstory. Also, my apologies to the Firesign Theater.

 

“So, this is the place?” asked Sam nervously.

“Um-hum,” muttered Dean, who was already attacking the lock on the back door with a pick, thankful that this neighborhood didn’t go in much for street lights, and this family didn’t cotton to watch dogs. He heard a satisfying click and pulled gingerly at the door. No alarm either. Good! Signaling his brother to shut the hell up, he slipped inside.

There weren’t any lights on inside, which was also good. Dean cringed a bit as Sam shut the door, even though he did a good job at being quiet about it. Clutching again at the small amulet hung around his neck, Dean led his brother through the rather small, anonymous suburban house. 

Dean came to the first doorway. It had been left slightly ajar. From the sound of snoring within, he gathered it was a bedroom. Holding his breath, and praying the hinges had been oiled, he gingerly pushed it open. It was a bedroom: evidently the master. Two sleeping figures currently occupied the double sized bed within. Glancing back at Sam, who nodded, Dean carefully pulled the door almost shut again and the two brothers proceeded down the hallway. 

The next room was a bathroom. Everything seemed fine in there as well.

And then he heard it. 

_“All my bags are packed I’m ready to go  
I’m standin’ here outside your door  
Hate to wake you up to say goodbye…”_

Someone was not only awake, they were bloody _singing_. Dean glanced at Sam again, who shrugged. It didn’t make any sense. This residence was mother, father and baby, and he had just seen the parents sound asleep. Could it be a babysitter? But why the hell would they have a sitter when the parents were home?

Dean inclined his head, and Sam crept after him towards the sound of the voice. It was another room with a slightly opened door. No lights were visible inside though. 

_“So kiss me and smile for me  
Tell me that you’ll wait for me  
Hold me like you’ll never let me go….”_

Dean steeled himself, tightening his grip on his iron bar. Sam situated himself on the opposite side of the door, clutching his flask of Jesus juice. Dean nodded. One, two, three….

He flung back the door.

_“’Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane  
Don’t know when I’ll be back again  
Oh babe I hate to go….”_

Moonlight through the window cast an eerie glow on the figure inside the room. It was a woman, dandling a baby. Despite the two of them barging into the room, however, she continued contentedly singing. Sam and Dean exchanged a confused glance.

“Uh, hello?” tried Sam.

The woman finally looked up at them. 

“Hello?” said Sam again.

She frowned, holding the baby tight. “You can see me?” she asked, peering closely at them. “But you’re human, aren’t you?”

“You’re a reaper, right?” asked Sam.

“I’m in the middle of reaper business right now, as it happens,” she told them, giving the kid a bounce or two.

Dean frowned. Carefully shutting the door, he fumbled for the switchplate and flipped on the main light. They were standing in a kids room of some kind, dominated by one of those kid beds that looked like a little prison, he thought. A crib, right?

The reaper was dressed in a standard black reaper suit, only she wore a silver bolero instead of the tie. To Dean she looked maybe thirty, thirty-five: older than him, but maybe not old enough to fall into cougar territory. Though he was also smart enough to know with these immortals, she could be centuries old. She had freakishly pale skin and black eyes. Actually, even in the light, the only color about her was auburn hair, which was tied primly back. Dean thought maybe with a pair of eyeglasses though she could have rocked the sexy librarian thing. 

“I’m sorry, but you haven’t answered my question. How can you see me?” she asked.

“We have amulets,” said Dean, holding up his. The reaper put the baby on her hip and fingered the little silver sigil on the chain around his neck.

“Enochian?” she asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“Yeah.”

“How did two human boys end up with an angel charm?” she asked suspiciously, turning her attention back to the baby, who gurgled charmingly.

“We have friends,” said Dean. “Look, we’ve come to warn you.”

“Warn me?” she asked, bouncing the child. “About?”

“We had word that some demons mean to disrupt a reaper. Here. Tonight,” explained Sam.

“You had word?” the reaper asked, though she appeared to be speaking to the baby. “Was this from your angel friends?”

“Yeah, in fact, it was from an angel friend,” admitted Sam. Talking too damn much, Dean thought.

“Well, your angel ‘friends’ are lying. Which is about all they’re good for. Other than scheming!” she told the baby, rubbing its nose with hers and receiving a cute giggle.

“This friend usually has good information,” said Sam.

“Usually?” sighed the reaper. “Look, if there was a demon, I could smell them. Those things stink to high heaven. I think your friend was pulling your leg. Now, if you’ll excuse me, boys. Someone didn’t get the word that you don’t put infants down to sleep on their belly. So I have some soul catching to do. Yes I do,” she added, poking the curly-haired baby in his tummy.

“Hey, you’re welcome,” grumbled Dean. “Look, Sammy, everything seems fine. Maybe Cas was off base this time.”

“He seemed pretty certain,” countered Sam.

“Besides,” said Dean, jabbing a thumb at the reaper, “you heard her, Morticia here doesn’t want us around.”

“So this is the only death you have scheduled here tonight?” Sam pressed.

The reaper sighed and suddenly thrust the baby into a very surprised Dean’s arms. He held the infant awkwardly as one might a football. The reaper pulled out an iPhone and started thumbing it. “Nope. Nope,” she told Sam. “Just one SIDS death here. I usually ask for cute baby assignments, that’s why I pulled this duty.”

“You can request deaths?” asked Sam.

“Well, _I_ can,” she told him.

“Sounds pretty morbid,” muttered Dean, still holding the bemused infant at arm’s length while juggling an iron crow bar under one arm.

All three of them abruptly silenced at the creak.

“Shit. Did we wake them up?” asked Sam.

The reaper frowned. “Well, I guess I’ll have some memories to wipe,” she grumbled. She walked over towards the door, holding up one hand as if to cast a spell. She never got to finish. The door burst inwards, bursting off its hinges, then falling and apparently crushing the reaper underneath. 

Dean spun around, now protectively clutching the infant to his chest. He looked over his shoulder. Sam was on the other side of the room, and now three figures stood in the doorway. He blinked. They all had weird green eyes, slitted like cats eyes.

“Sammy!” said Dean.

Sam recovered himself enough to splash the flask of holy water at the intruders. It caught the two nearest to him, who hissed and covered their eyes. The other rushed Dean who, awkwardly now hefting the kid in one hand, grabbed for his iron bar, which fell uselessly to the floor. And then the demon was on him, Dean falling over the infant, demon breath hot on his neck. He heard a cry and the weight was gone. Sammy had just whacked it in the head with the crowbar. Dean scrambled up, noticing as he did that the demon’s blood was black.

But now the two other demons were recovered and were rushing Sam.

The door, which was lying on the floor, suddenly flew up, the reaper rising underneath, a furious look in her eyes, a small, silve scythe-like blade in her hands. With a cry, the reaper slashed one demon ear to ear. It fell, bleeding black. The other turned on her and was rewarded with a kick in the balls. As it slumped over, the reaper grabbed its hair and slashed its throat as well. It sighed, and collapsed in a heap over its brother.

Sam, Dean and the reaper stood, breathing hard for a long moment. Dean looked down to the baby, which peered up at him. “Gabble?” it cooed.

“You’re OK, bro,” Dean assured him.

“I don’t get it,” said Sam, squatting down over the pile of dead demons. “I mean, where’s the smoke? And what’s up with the black blood?” He poked his iron crowbar into the blood. It was thick and sticky.

The reaper did something with her hands: it looked like an orchestra conductor signaling for attention. And then she dusted off her jacket and pulled out her phone again. She started chattering at first in a language that did not sound like anything ever spoken by a human. And then she abruptly switched to English. “Eris, hey! Yes, I'm still out on the job. Well, it's a mess. Yeah. Is Daddy around?”

“Daddy?” mouthed Dean, awkwardly juggling the infant, who looked a little dubious. Shaking his head, Sam grabbed the baby away from his brother.

“Yeah, can I speak to him? Uh-huh, it's urgent, or I wouldn't make him talk on a cell!” continued the reaper. “Well, of course he's eating!” she laughed, and Dean had to smile.

Sam made a face at the baby, who giggled.

“Daddy! Uh, no, as a matter of fact, I've never had a deep fried … Twinkle? Twinkie? No, not that either. Look, I'm on a job, and there's these demons. Yes, demons! Well, I've had to freeze time and all that. But these two human boys came to warn me.... The human boys?” She looked over at Sam and Dean. “Well, there's a tall one, and a grumpy one.” Dean scowled. “Yeah,” she continued, “I'll ask.” She frowned at Sam and Dean. “Um, are you … Winchesters?”

“I'm Sam,” grinned Sam, making the baby giggle, “and that's Dean.”

The reaper frowned. “Uh, yes, Daddy, that's who they are- What? You will? I could get this cleaned- No, that's fine, I'll be here.” She hit the END CALL button on the iPhone, and stared at it for a moment.

“Excuse me,” said Dean, “You were talking to your father? Is he-?” Dean paused, a shiver running down his spine.

“Dean. And Sam. How very … unexpected.”

“Uh, Death,” said Dean at the gaunt gentleman who had just appeared in the nursery. “How’s it hanging?” Because, well, what else was there to say to the Grim Reaper?

“Leinth, my dear,” said Death. He set down his large, old-fashioned satchel and swept over to give the reaper a peck on the forehead. “You are well?”

“I'm fine, Daddy. But what a mess!” said Leinth, pointing at the dead demons heaped on the floor. 

“Hrm,” said Death, noshing on something out of a paper sack he was clutching. “Would you like a deep fried Twinkie?” Leinth waved her hand. “Anyone?” offered Death. Sam shook his head, but Dean reached over to grab one.

“Hey, why not?” Dean asked.

“Because you'll clog your arteries!” said Sam.

“Hey, everybody's gotta go some time,” grinned Dean, licking Twinkie crumbs from his fingers.

“Dean has a point,” offered Death. He folded up the bag and put it in a coat pocket, then turned to the demons. Leaning heavily on his ornate silver-tipped cane, lowered himself down to a squat, where he seemed to puzzle over the demons for a while.

“They don't look like anything we've encountered before,” said Dean.

“Indeed. Nor I,” admitted Death. “Leinth, my bag?” 

Dean, who was standing right next to it, leaned over and grabbed Death's satchel. He nearly lost his balance: it was so heavy it might as well been nailed to the floor. Leith the reaper strolled over and, with a wry look at Dean, easily grabbed the satchel and brought it over to her father. Death opened the case and took out what looked like an eyepiece like something a jeweler might use. He peered through it at the demons, and then at their blood.

“I don't mean to hurry you, Daddy, but there's a school bus crash....” said Leinth, consulting her wristwatch.

“Why don't you get along to your next errand, my dear, and I shall conclude this business. With the aid or the Winchesters?” Death told her, half a question.

“Yeah, sure,” said Dean. Leinth held her hands out to Sam, who clutched the baby, looking dubious.

“No, leave the child for now,” said Death.

“Really?” asked Leinth, who seemed genuinely confused.

“Really,” said Death.

“All right. See you later then,” said Leinth.

“Yes, pray don't be late for dinner! We shall be serving turducken!” said Death indulgently as she disappeared. He leaned on his cane and, with some effort, straightened up. 

“What do you think is going on?” asked Dean, who was sort of glad to see the back end of the singing reaper chick.

“I am as puzzled as you, I am afraid. I must consult some arcana in my library. But first, I must thank you for coming to the aid of my Leinth.”

“Uh, no problem,” said Dean.

“Nope,” said Sam, making a funny face at the baby in his arms.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude. And believe me, I do pay my debts,” said Death.

“Uh, so, Leinth is your actual daughter?” asked Dean.

“My actual and in fact daugher,” smiled Death, who put away his eyepiece and snapped his case shut. His smile was a thing to see. “She is learning the family business,” he said, no little pride in his voice, “from the bottom up!”

“The family business?” asked Dean. 

“Yes,” Death told him. “Recent experience has told me it is an unwise man who does not make … arrangements. Someone oversee things, in the unfortunate event of my future absence.”

Dean, because he just couldn't help himself, asked “Who was her mom?” Sam cringed.

Death however merely beamed. “The most beautiful woman in the world. Now! We need to clean up a bit around here.” He waved a hand, and the demons disappeared. With a flick of his finger, the door was back on the hinges. He extended a long-fingered hand towards Sam.

“Uh, are you gonna-?” Sam asked, clutching at the baby.

“No, I think not,” said Death, as the chubby baby passed willingly over to him. 

“No?” asked Dean.

Death bounced the infant, who smiled sunnily at him. He walked over to the crib, where he carefully laid the child down on its back. “In the grand scheme of things, this one is a very small matter,” he explained. “As we are still searching for the origin of our friends, it might do to keep him around. Would it not?” he asked the infant, who goo-ed and then seemed to doze off peacefully.

“You're really not gonna reap him?” asked Dean.

“Not at the present time. I shall contact you,” he continued, hefting his case, “If I have, as it were, a break in the case. I expect the same from you, in return. Until then,” he nodded, and then disappeared.

“We better disappear as well,” Sam told Dean, who frowned and then nodded. Dean wasn't quite sure how long the time stopping thing would last, and best not have the parents find two weird guys in their kid's bedroom. He was quiet until they made it out to the Impala, turning on the radio to cover the silence. He also tugged off his reaper amulet and let it dangle from the rear view mirror.

“So, had enough of Death?” asked Sam after a time, watching Dean’s amulet sway back and forth.

“Those reaper things creep me out,” grumbled Dean, who shivered.

“Is that because she called you the grumpy one?” laughed Sam.

“Look, Sam, you haven’t dealt with these things like I have. I always feel like Death has a card up his sleeve. They might even be playing us right now.”

“Why would they have demons attack themselves though? That doesn’t make sense,” Same reasoned.

“I’m not even sure those things were demons. I mean, where’s the smoke?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like any of it,” Dean grumbled, turning up the stereo.

 

“Hey, I’ve got one!”

“Got one what?” asked Dean. Sam was sitting cross legged on their motel room bed, peering into the laptop. Dean’s mood hadn’t improved, even after consuming an especially big juicy burger at the local diner. Reapers soured his digestion. So when Sam had volunteered to poke around looking for cases where it looked like someone was cheating death, Dean had told him to go right ahead.

“You said to look for cases where people had eluded death lately?” asked Sam, turning around the screen so Dean could see. Dean reluctantly glanced over. And then he was suddenly over on the bed next to Sam.

“Oh my god! Rebus Knebus!” shouted Dean.

“Uh, it’s a weird name,” said Sam.

“Don’t you remember him? When we were kids?” 

“Uh. No.”

“Maybe you were too little,” said Dean, pulling the laptop away fom Dean and into his lap. “Good god, Rebus Knebus! I even had the action figure!”

“Who is he?”

“Oh, he jumped his motorbike! He would jump over motorhomes, through hoops of fire, over canyons, over shark pits! He was completely batshit! They said he’d broken every bone in his body! Twice!”

“Sounds, uh, great,” said Sam, looking dubiously at his brother.

“Dad took me to one of his shows! I think you were maybe too young, I don’t remember. But he jumped over 30 motorhomes. Thirty! All at once.”

“Well, I guess if you did it one at a time, it would have taken all night,” mused Sam.

“I had a little Rebus action figure, where you wound up his motorcycle and made it jump,” remembered Dean, excitedly making a winding motion with his hands. “It was the best toy ever.”

“So, he’s still jumping? How old is he?” asked Sam.

Dean came back to earth and glanced at the computer screen. “Huh,” he said clicking. “Oh, wait! Lame! This is his son, Rebus Knebus Jr. He was never as good. Always in the shadow of the old men.”

“But this thing says his last trick he crashed and caught on fire! And then emerged unharmed!” said Sam, pointing to the screen. “That sounds slightly interesting.”

“Huh,” said Dean. “Well, might be worth checking out.”

 

“Yeah, so we’re Burnette and Dixon, Inspectors from the Department of Public Safety. We’re just here to provide assurance that this venue is up to code,” said Dean.

“Go ahead, darlin’,” rasped the woman who had been pointed out to them as the site manager of the venue, who didn’t even bother to glance at the badges. “I run a clean show! Good clean family entertainment!” she said, waving her cigarette at the crowd funneling into the stands.

“Uh, yeah,” said Dean. “Can you tell me how to contact the, uh, performer.”

“He’s probably in his trailer,” she said, now waving ashes off in another direction.

“Thank you,” said Dean, hastening away.

“Clean, family oriented carnage,” muttered Sam. “You think everyone here wants to see him crash again?”

“I dunno. There’s the trailer,” said Dean. They had come upon a rather modest motorhome parked out back, painted on the side with fading red white and blue logo of Rebus Knebus, Jr.

Dean walked right up and knocked, as there didn’t seem to be a doorbell.

“WHAT?” came an irritable voice from within.

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. “Uh. Inspectors. Department of Public Safety. Just wanted to ask you a few questions. Before the show.”

The door opened, but just a crack. Dean stepped back in surprise. The scent of sulphur was overwhelming. He looked back at Sam to see if he sensed it too. 

“Show me your ID!” came the voice. 

Dean shrugged and held his fake badge up to the doorway. “Inspector Burnette,” he said calmly.

The door popped open, but only for an instant, and an unshaven, pot-bellied middle-aged man was standing there, the door shut tight behind him, blocked with his body. “What do you wanna know?” grumbled the man, adjusting his ratty Rebus Knebus dressing gown.

“Uh, you’re Mr. Knebus, I presume?” asked Dean, who seemed a bit flustered.

“Yeah. That’s me.”

“We just have a few questions,” Sam put in smoothly. “Now, these might seem strange, but they’re completely routine. Have you sensed any cold spots around yourself lately?”

“I’m freezing my balls off now!” barked Knebus.

“Uh, yeah,” said Sam. “I mean, during the day, when it shouldn’t be cold.”

“No.”

“Any strange noises?” pressed Sam.

“No.”

“Have you smelled sulfur?” asked Dean.

Knebus turned to stare right at Dean. “No.”

“Well, uh, OK,” said Sam. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

“Come on, Agent Dixon,” said Dean. “I think we’re done here.” Dean turned on his heel and left, Sam trailing after him. “OK,” said Dean as soon as they were out of earshot. “Soon as the show starts, you’re coming back here and breaking into that trailer. We’ve gotta see what the guy is hiding in there.”

“Probably loads of dirty laundry from the looks of him,” said Sam. “And what are you gonna do?”

Dean smiled thinly. “I’m gonna watch the show, of course!”

 

“…Over the three hundred and fifty feet of motorhomes and through the circle of fire! No man has ever attempted such a feat! Only one man would dare! The man who cheats death!”

Dean crunched popcorn and watched from the back of the stands. It was a warm summer night, so the stunt had been set up outdoors, under the floodlights. It looked like this space might usually be a high school football field, or a fairgrounds or something of the sort. 

Dean recognized the setup from many similar ones he’d concocted as a child, only using LEGO blocks and couch cushions instead of real motorhomes. There was a ramp going up, a rather impressive line of recreational vehicles parked side by side, a big hoop suspended somewhere near the middle (that Dean gathered at some point would be lit on fire), and then there was a ramp leading down, though Dean had no idea how that fat old dude he’d just met thought he could jump that distance. 

Dean shoved more buttery popcorn in his mouth and wagered with himself over how many bones Rebus Knebus Jr. was gonna break tonight.

“And here his is, the man of the hour, the death-defying REBUS KNEBUS!” came the announcement as the stands erupted into cheers and clapping. Knebus, looking somewhat more put together, roared up on a red, white and blue bike, and was now squeezed into matching motorcycle leathers.

Dean sniffed. Sulfur? 

“Dean!” Dean turned around to see his brother hovering in back of him. 

“You smell like…”

“I know. I know,” sighed Sam. He was holding something under his coat. “You owe me one!”

“What do you got?” asked Dean, pointing to the coat. Sam glanced around and then flashed the object. It was a book, a really old looking book, and Dean immediately spotted the pentagram on the cover. 

“Wanna get going before he figures out this is missing?” asked Sam.

“Aw, it’s almost time, let’s hang and watch the jump!” said Dean.

“Dean, I smell like a rotten egg omelet,” said Sam. “I’d like to get in a shower.”

“What, you looking for a date?” grinned Dean. Sam shook his head crossly, but then grabbed a handful of popcorn when Dean tilted the bag his way. Sam munched irritably as they watched Knebus wind up for the jump.

As the audience silenced, he roared his motorcycle to a halt a good distance from the jump. Then, after a couple of dramatic revs, he hurtled for the ramp. He hit it perfectly, and the motorcycle was suddenly airborne, wheeling over motor homes.

Unfortunately, he clipped the ring of fire with the back wheel, and instead of clearing the remainder of the motorhomes, came down on top of them. The audience gasped. Knebus and the bike were both now on fire. The bike spun out of control, careening off to the side of the motorhomes, well short of the ramp. 

At this point, Knebus was hurled free of the bike, which landed with a crunch, and then spun, a fiery wreck. Knebus landed with a splat a few meters away, where rescue personnel with fire extinguishers surrounded him and doused the fire. There was a big crowd of them, and you could no longer see Knebus.

“Please remain calm!” the announcer urged the audience. 

“Well, so much for him,” said Sam.

“Yeah, there’s no way he’s gonna try that again soon,” said Dean. 

“He must have broken all his bones. Again,” said Sam.

“Wait, we have word!” thundered the announcer. “We have word on that brave man, Rebus Knebus Jr.!”

“That brave pancake,” said Sam.

“He’s OK!” cheered the announcer. And just then, emerging from the crowd of rescuers, now wearing a slightly singed outfit, was Knebus. He was not limping, he was bouncing up and down, taking his bows.

The audience screamed and cheered.

“Something is rotten here,” said Dean. “And it’s not just your aftershave,” he told Sam.

 

_“The ankle bone connected to the leg bone,  
The leg bone connected to the knee bone,  
The knee bone connected to the thigh bone….”_

It was a scene of terrible devastation. Much worse than the Knebus fiasco they had witnessed the other night.

Two trains, going opposite directions, had somehow been directed to the same track. There was smoke and twisted metal as far as the eye could see. And thanks to the amulet Dean had donned, he could see a whole bunch of black-suited reapers as well.

All of the grave beings appeared to be paying attention to one auburn-haired Reaper, who was laying out the gruesome remains of several victims along the side of the tracks.

_“The hip bone connected to the back bone,  
The back bone connected to the neck bone,  
The neck bone connected to the head bone….”_

“Does she always have to sing?” Dean whispered to Sam, who sighed and shrugged.

“Now,” Leinth told the gathered reapers. “Can we all see this?” she asked, waving a body part for emphasis. “Victim twenty-three? Has two right hands?”

“Uh, no, Leinth,” said one of the reapers.

“That’s correct. So, we have miscounted?” she asked.

There were silent, grim nods.

“And what do we get if we miscount? If we miss someone?” asked Leinth. “Anyone?”

There was a long pause.

“A restless spirit!” broke in Sam, ignoring Dean’s jabbing him in the ribs.

Leinth’s dark eyes trailed over to Sam, and she smiled thinly. “The human is right! You see? It pays to pay attention to details! Now, everybody, fall out and get this cleaned up, I’ll look for our extra soul. Let’s go!”

The reapers dispersed, and Leinth approached Sam and Dean. “Do you boys have news for my father?” she asked, gesturing with the dismembered hand she had been holding.

“Uh, if you don’t mind, could you not…?” asked Dean, gesturing to the hand.

“Oh, sorry!” said Leinth, who set down the amputated limb. “I forget when I’m on the job.” She gestured, now with just her own hand, at the gathered reapers. “When my father was … away, things got a bit sloppy. It’s understandable. But we’re trying to correct that.”

“More reaping efficiency?” asked Sam.

“I am trying to bring death into the twenty first century!” said Leinth proudly. She inclined her head. “Walk with me, I have to find something.”

“We have a guy, Rebus Knebus,” said Sam.

“Doesn’t ring any bells,” said Leinth, walking out along the train tracks. She would pause occasionally, picking up huge chunks of twisted metal to peer beneath.

“Sam and I watched him die the other night,” recounted Dean.

“Yeah, and he was OK,” said Sam.

“Oh. Are you certain it wasn’t a magic trick?” asked Leinth, prying up a sheet of metal that looked like it weighed a ton. “Some of your human magicians are very clever.”

“He was set on fire and then skidded a good 50 feet. He should have at least had some damage,” said Dean.

“That doesn’t sound right,” said Leinth distractedly. She was peering at something under a scrap of passenger car. “Oh, there you are!” she said. She extended a hand, and pulled out something. A very confused looking ghost stumbled out from beneath the wreckage.

“Excuse me one second,” she whispered to Sam and Dean.

Leinth wrapped an arm around the ghost’s shoulders and led him away from the crash site. “Oh, there we go. Have you been hiding? I bet you were very confused. Don’t worry, I have you now. You’re safe. You’re safe with me. Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” she said, gently preventing him from turning around to see the smoking remains of the train. “That’s not what you want to remember. No, that’s not what you want to carry with you. You’re going some place new. You have a family, right? Now, think of them. Loving thoughts of them. Do you have it? Yes? All right, hold tight.”

There was a flash, and then the ghost was gone, and Leinth was standing alone. She quickly regained her composure, and walked back to where Sam and Dean stood watching. She pulled out her cell phone. “Ree-boot … what did you say?” she asked.

“Rebus Knebus,” said Dean. “Junior.”

Leinth stared at her phone. “Just junior? Are you sure?”

“Why?” asked Dean.

“This is very interesting. Very interesting.”

“What is?” asked Sam.

“Well, the reaper on the job during the recent incident? AWOL. Sadly, this isn’t surprising. It’s one of the issues we’ve been having. But I’m also seeing several other instances connected with this individual. At least half a dozen. And all of the reapers are unaccounted for.”

“Reapers just wander off?” asked Sam.

“Yeah, and when they do show up, they’re not focused on the job,” confessed Leinth.

“Where do they go?” asked Dean.

“That’s a good question!” said Leinth, who didn’t offer an answer. She looked back at her cell phone. “But here’s the other funny thing. The other Rebus Knebus? His time was back in the day, before we made our scheduling more efficient. Nowadays we do it dynamically, employing who’s ever available to the task….”

“Sounds efficient,” said Dean.

“Oh, I’ve got some programmers from Xeroc Parc working on it!” bragged Leinth! “The algorithm is evidently an interesting challenge.”

“Uh, right,” said Dean, who hoped his death was anything but efficient.

“But, modern times bring complexity. We’ve had issues with folks like you,” she said. “I’ve read your dossiers, always popping up alive where you shouldn’t be!”

“Yeah, your dad thinks we go against nature,” said Dean.

“Well, who can say,” shrugged Leinth. “The modern world is filled with near death experiences. We must learn to deal with ambiguity, that’s what I say. We need to change with the times! Think outside the box-”

“Uh, Leinth,” asked Sam before Leinth could get more caught up in corporate jargon. “You said there was something weird about Rebus Senior?” 

“Oh. Right,” said the reaper. “Well, in those days, we had a more formal assignment routine: it was one reaper, one subject.”

“And Senior’s reaper?” asked Dean.

“Disappeared. Blinked out.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other. “So, Knebus Senior is still alive?” asked Dean hopefully.

“Yes,” said Leinth, staring down her phone. “A loophole! It’s well past his time! I need to send somebody out….”

“Look, can you do this?” asked Dean. “Do us a favor, and hold off until Sam and I can talk to hm.”

“You think he has vital information?” asked Leinth.

“Yeah. Yeah, exactly, I think we could get some vital information,” said Dean, while Sam looked skeptical. “You got an address on him?” Leinth showed him her cell phone. Dean nodded, and then started to go, gesturing for Sam to come with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Beat the Reaper  
Fandom: Supernatural  
Author: tikistitch  
Rating: PG-13   
Characters: Sam, Dean, Death, Castiel  
Warnings: Cursing. OFC: she’s not paired with anyone, but if that’s the kind of think you hate, you’ll hate that kind of thing. Also, some pretty dark humor in this one.   
Word Count: 10,000 total  
Summary: Someone is meddling with the Reapers. Dean gets to check up on a childhood idol to find out why.   
Notes: I like SPN's version of Death, so I wrote him a little bit of a backstory. Also, my apologies to the Firesign Theater.

 

“I dunno, Dean,” said Sam. “If the old man is anything like his son, we couldn’t get anything out of him! He wouldn’t even admit sulfur smelled like sulfur.”

“I think we’ll be OK,” said Dean.

“You sure about this? Maybe we should just let the reapers handle it from here,” said Sam, eying his brother. “Or do you just want to get your little wind up motorcycle thing autographed?” asked Sam.

“Come on, Sammy! Rebus Knebus! The original. He’s my idol!”

“Judging from his son, he’s also a complete asshat. And that address she gave, it’s a long drive,” sighed Sam as they reached the Impala.

“It’ll be great!” said Dean, hopping in and slamming the door. “The open road! You know, like Easy Rider.”

“That didn’t end well,” said Sam. “And the Impala isn’t a motorcycle!”

“No, it’s not! It’s an automobile!” supplied the rumpled angel who had just appeared in the back seat.

“Very good, Cas,” grumbled Dean.

“Cas!” said Sam, rather more enthusiastically. “To what do we owe this visit?”

“I wanted to know if Dean needed help with the reaper case I gave him.”

“I think we’re OK, Cas. Unless you wanna grab some sandwiches?” said Dean.

“Yeah, actually Cas, we need you to teleport us to Moose Jaw, Montana,” said Sam.

“Sammy!” warned Dean, but it was too late.

The Impala suddenly appeared alongside a country backroad. The passenger door wrenched open, and Sam staggered out, retching. 

“Yeah, get far away from the car, Sammy,” advised Dean, watching his brother. “That’s what it did to me the first few times too,” he said, getting out. 

Castiel was beside Sam now, holding a platter out to him. “Would you like your sandwiches now or later?” he asked.

“Uhhhh,” moaned Sam, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Later?” 

“Cas?” said Dean. 

“Yes, Dean?

“No sandwich. Damp towel,” said Dean, pointing at Sam.

“Oh. All right,” said Castiel. He disappeared briefly, and then popped up again, now proffering said object to Sam, who immediately buried his face in it. 

“Looks like you’re in luck,” said Dean, consulting his phone. “Knebus’ place is in walking distance from here.” He pointed. “That way.”

“That house?” asked Castiel, who seemed confused. Of course, Castiel often seemed confused.

“Well, according to my GPS,” said Dean.

“There is a dead man who lives there,” said Castiel.

“Wait, he croaked and we missed him! Son of a bitch!” said Dean. “Come on!” he urged, increasing his pace.

They soon made their way to an isolated farm house. It didn’t appear that anyone had bothered to farm there for decades. Dean noticed immediately there was an outbuilding that housed several motorcycles, but all of them looked to be disused as well. After attempting to peek into several heavily curtained windows with no luck, Dean went right up to the front too ring the doorbell. To his surprise, there was noise: slow, shuffling footsteps, and a squeaking, like something mechanical.

After a moment or two, the front door opened, and a very, very bent old man appeared behind the screen door, leaning heavily on a cane. He was wearing an oxygen mask, and dragged behind him an oxygen tank, on a wheeled cart with one squeaking wheel.

“Uh. Mr. Knebus?” asked Dean.

The old man removed the mask. “Yes,” he wheezed.

“Uh. I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam, and our friend Cas. We’re all big fans, sir. Big, big fans.”

“Fans?” asked the old man.

“Yeah. My dad took me to one of your jumps. It was years ago-?”

“Which one?” asked Knebus Senior.

“Oh, it was over in Swamp Creek!” said Dean, warming to the subject. “You had all these RVs lined up, and I remember they dud a pit of fire!”

“Swamp Creek. The pit of fire,” whispered the old man. “Yes, one of my favorites. One of my best.”

“It was awesome,” said Dean lamely, just realizing that he hadn’t bothered to come up with a better cover story.

“Well. Why don’t you come in for a spell. Don’t get many visitors these days,” wheezed Knebus, opening the screen door. Dean didn’t have to be asked twice. They followed the old man as he shuffled into his house. It was dim inside, as there weren’t many lights on, and all of the windows were blacked out with heavy curtains, but you could still see Knebus’ motorcycle jumping memorabilia spread throughout the small living room.

“We just saw your son,” said Sam, settling himself on a couch. “The other day.”

“Oh,” said Knebus. He shot Sam an inscrutable glance. “We don’t talk. Not any more.”

“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry,” said Sam.

Castiel had remained standing. “Rebus Knebus, you cheated Death,” he said.

“Many a time,” said Knebus, painfully easing himself down in into a chair. “I was the man who defied death!”

“No. You did not meet your maker at the appointed time,” said Castiel, narrowing his eyes at Knebus.”

“Cas,” said Dean. 

“Yes, Dean?” 

“Maybe it’s time for sandwiches now?” suggested Dean.

The angel’s expression suddenly transformed. He was not there, and then he was again. “Would you like a sandwich?” he asked Knebus, holding out a platter of them to the old stunt rider.

Knebus looked at Sam and Dean, momentarily confused. “Well, don’t mind as I do. I guess. Is this egg salad?” 

“Yes, it is particularly satisfying,” said Castiel. “For human food.”

“You’re not from around here, are you, boy?” Knebus asked Castiel as he grabbed the sandwich.

“No,” began Castiel. “I am Castiel-“

“He’s, uh, from North Dakota,” interjected Dean.

“Ahhhh!” said Knebus, nodding sagely.

“Sir,” said Sam, holding his stomach and waving away the sandwich tray. “Can you tell us anything about this book?” he asked, extracting the arcane tome he had stolen from Knebus Jr. from his messenger bag and setting it on the coffee table.

Knebus paused in mid egg-salad-bite. “Oh. You found it. Did he have it?”

“Did who have it?” asked Dean.

“I warned him, I did,” said Knebus, waving his sandwich, egg salad making little splatters around him. 

“Warned who?” asked Sam.

“Look at me!” wheezed Knebus, pulling at his cart of oxygen. “I’m well past time to go. But I sent him away. I sent him away, and now I’m a broken down old man, no one to take me home.”

Dean leaned forward, his roast beef sandwich nearly forgotten. “Who did you send away, Mr. Knebus?” he asked quietly.

“He banished his death,” said Castiel, who was standing in judgment with a sandwich platter.

“I did. I did, saints forgive me,” sobbed Knebus, tears now streaming down his lined face. 

“Oh, hey, it’s gonna be OK,” said Sam, who didn’t know what else to say, but figured he might try, as Dean was looking terrified at the sudden expression of emotion. Sam felt a tapping on his shoulder, and Castiel handed him over an antique looking lacy handkerchief. Sam offered the handkerchief to Knebus, who blew his nose into it in a very sloppy, noisy way. Knebus handed the damp, snotty handkerchief back to Sam, who, holding it gingerly on one corner, winced and passed it back to Castiel.

“You wanna start from the beginning?” Sam asked.

“I was a small time daredevil. Just did local fairs, that kind of thing,” said Knebus, who seemed terribly out of breath following his outburst, as he occasionally paused to put the mask to his face and suck in oxygen. “I had me a few spills, a few close calls. And then there was one, I was going for a new record. I just jumped over motorcycles at that time. I went off the ramp wrong, landed wrong, everything that could happen. Well, I woke up in the hospital, but just before I went under, I swore I saw him in the crowd.”

“Saw who?” asked Sam.

“The man in black. The one come for me. I knew he was mine, knew he was now looking over my shoulder.”

“So what did you do?” asked Dean, who thought he knew the answer.

“I found this book – that book right there – at a church basement sale. I didn’t believe in witches and spells and the like, but the late wife used to cook, and it seemed a lot like a cookbook.”

“You could read it?” asked Dean.

Knebus actually laughed, a dry death rattle of mirth. “Latin! The nuns woulda pounded me if I wasn’t able to read my Latin. Good Catholic boy. Anyway, it was pretty clear, if you wanted to chase away Death, there were some things to buy and words to say. I had a family to support, remember, a wife and a little boy. I couldn’t let them take me away before my time!”

“It was your time. It was written,” said Castiel.

“Cas,” shushed Dean.

“No man may say when it is his time!” insisted the angel, chomping down on a cheese sandwich. “It is arrogan’!” he smacked. 

“Well, I’ve paid my price,” sighed Knebus, holding the mask to his face. “So, I did my piece, and it summoned these three odd fellows. Weird look, like not from around here. Cat eyes, they had. Green cat eyes in the moonlight.”

“What happened to them? Do you know?” asked Sam.

“They ran off. But they got him. I knew they did. Couldn’t feel him looking over my shoulder no more. Never did see my man in black again.”

The men were silent for a moment, the only sound Knebus gasping through the oxygen mask.

“So how did your son find the book?” Sam finally asked.

Knebus sighed deeply. It seemed the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “I warned him. Warned him time and time again. But the boy wanted to be like his old man. Just like his old man. Folly in my bootsteps, I guess.” He looked around the room. “All I know is, the last time he was here, I looked and my book was missing.” He pointed around to a bookshelf: there was a gap between the books. 

 

“So he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, no matter what,” mused Sam as the three men and one angel gathered later that night in a motel room.

“Lot of that going around,” mused Dean.

“They have perverted the natural order!” stated Castiel, who had pulled up the rug and was busy painting something on the floor.

“Now, Cas. Remember, I’ve been back and forth a couple times.”

“That was different,” snapped Castiel.

“Leinth said that maybe being uncertain is the natural order nowadays!” said Sam, who was sitting at a table peering into a laptop.

“She’s a reaper,” scoffed Castiel.

“Yeah, I gotta agree with Cas, those guys are creepy,” said Dean, pulling on a beer.

“I don’t know why you guys are prejudiced,” said Sam.

“I’m not prejudiced. I just don’t like ‘em,” said Dean.

“I do not judge. They will be judged by the lord their god.”

“Cas, aren’t you being a little harsh?” asked Sam. “Leinth is trying to follow in her father’s footsteps. I would think of anyone, you two could relate.”

Catiel and Dean glanced at each other.

“Yeah, but they’re creepy footsteps!” said Dean. “Would you wanna be Death?”

“Maybe if my dad was Death. Yeah,” said Sam.

“Ewww,” said Dean.

“I have finished marking the sigils,” said Castiel.

“Oh, great, Cas!” said Sam. “So how long will it take-“

“What the hell? Couldn’t you guys call my cell?” asked Leinth, who had just appeared, sitting cross-legged, in the middle of their motel room. She was dressed not in her reaper suite, but black sweatpants and a t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on it. Her feet were bare, and she had little foam pieces between each toe. In one hand, she held a bottle of black nail polish.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry,” said Sam.

“I was trying to give myself a pedicure,” grumbled Leinth. “You know have some girl time.” She stood up and looked at the floor. “Oh, ya know, one thing I should tell you about me and these devil traps-“ She looked up and scowled. “And what are you supposed to be?” she demanded of Castiel.

“I am Castiel, angel of the lord,” Castiel rumbled, scowling back.

“Is this you guys’ pet angel?” she asked, continuing to lock eyes with Castiel.

“Cas is a friend,” said Sam, who stood up and walked over towards the reaper. “We’re all friends here.”

“I’m not friends with any angel.” Leinth looked over at Sam. “And you shouldn’t be either. They’re only good for scheming!”

“He’s the one who warned us about the demons,” said Dean.

“And we have news,” said Sam.

“What news?” asked Leinth, slamming down the bottle of nail polish on an end table and hopping on one foot to pull the foam bits out of her toes.

“Rebus Senior admitted that he conjured the demons that evidently took out his original reaper,” said Dean. “And that his son recently stole his spell book.”

“This book,” said Sam, patting the spell book.

“Oh, so if you have it,” said Leinth, “that means he can’t get up to more mischief?”

“We don’t know,” admitted Dean.

“It is possible he has committed the spell to memory. Humans can be quite clever that way,” mused Castiel.

“Hey, angel boy, that’s my nail polish,” said Leinth as Castiel curiously examined the bottle.

“Do you drink this substance?” he asked, opening it and taking a sniff.

“I put it on my nails,” Leinth told him. “When I’m not interrupted.”

“Does it ward off demons?” asked Castiel, holding the bottle towards her.

“No. It makes my nails black!” said Leinth, grabbing the bottle.

“I fail to see the point of this exercise,” said Castiel.

“It’s like getting your clothes dry cleaned. Which you also don’t understand,” said Leinth. “Is he Castiel the stupid angel or something?” she asked Sam.

“No, he’s just Cas,” smiled Sam.

“The important thing is,” Dean told her, “Rebus Knebus Jr. has another stunt coming up. So, we think he might conjure some more demons.”

“Who’s assigned to reap him?” Sam asked.

Leinth eyed the Winchester brothers, and then slid a hand into her bra and extracted a cell phone. Dean grinned. Leinth opened an app and thumbed around for a while. “I see it here. I was going to take the assignment myself.”

“You need to let us go with you,” said Dean.

“You want to accompany me?” asked Leinth.

“Yeah. To protect you,” said Sam.

“You guys protect me?” asked Leinth.

“We’re pros at fighting demons, plus we have an angel!” said Dean, indication Castiel.

“You have an angel who eats nail polish,” sighed Leinth glumly. 

“You’re a singing reaper,” countered Dean.

Leinth sighed. “OK. OK. Touche. I’ll check with my father.” 

 

“Daddy!”

“Now, Leinth, you should finish your pizza before it gets cold. It’s Chicago style!” said Death, regarding the pouting girl sitting at the dining room table opposite.

Leinth distractedly took out her knife and fork and began to saw a little piece of the pepperoni pie.

“Leinth!” said Death.

“Yes, Daddy?”

“What have a told you?” he asked.

“Oh, sorry!” said Leinth. She put down the knife and fork and instead held up the slice by the crust, being careful to fold it slightly down the middle so it didn’t flop over. She skillfully inserted the end in her mouth and chewed.

“Do you like it?” asked Death. “It’s from my favorite pizza joint!” he told her, obviously relishing the word, “joint.”

“It’s very good, Daddy. Uh, Daddy. Your Winchesters want to go along with me while I reap,” she told her father.

“Well, that should be splendid.”

“Daddy! Those boys pal around with an… an angel!”

“Now, my dear,” said Death. 

“But you’re the one who told me angels are only good for scheming! And to stay far away from angel business.”

“Generally, that is a fine rule,” Death told her. “But you are very new in this realm, and I believe it is important that you have experience with all sorts of beings.”

“Even icky ones?”

“Yes, all beings,” smiled Death. “These are things you should know, if you are ever called upon to replace me.”

“Oh, Daddy, no one could ever replace you!”

Death smiled indulgently. “Oh, and kindly tell the Winchesters when you see them, I have some further information regarding the demons we encountered initially.”

“Yes?”

“I could not identify them definitively because they are not from this world.”

“Oh! Really?” said Leinth.

“It is a source of more long term concern. There are firm barriers in place between worlds, as there must be. But they seem to be fraying of late.”

“That sounds worrisome,” said Leinth.

“Unfortunately, much of importance was neglected while I was away. No matter. We shall attend to it in due time. Now, do not let your pizza get cold, child.”

 

“I still fail to see the point,” said Castiel.

“Well, I guess part of the point is there is no point,” Leinth told him.

“Hrm,” said Castiel.

“Have you heard from Sam and Dean?” Leinth asked the angel.

“No, there are no messages,” said Castiel, looking over at his cell phone.

“You just call on their cell? You don’t have a secret angel way of watching them?”

“Not any more.”

“But you used to?” asked Leinth.

“That is true. I have hidden them away from the angels.”

“Oh,” said Leinth. “You don’t trust angels either?”

“I do not trust certain angels,” said Castiel. “This is a very nice shade of black,” he noted, scrutinizing his toes. “Leinth?” He looked up

Leinth was no longer sitting there.

“Oh. This is not good,” he said.

 

“This … looks exactly like the other jump,” sniffed Sam. This time, they were all gathered inside a very big circus tent.

“No, this is totally different! This time he goes over the RV’s and past the pit of fire.”

“How is that different from last time?” asked Sam.

“Last time he went through the _ring_ of fire.”

“Yeah, OK. I think I liked the Johnny Cash one better. Anyway, he’s gonna die.”

“If Leinth has her way, yeah,” agreed Dean. He grabbed out is cell phone. “It’s Cas,” he told Sam. “Yeah, Cas! How are- She what? Disappeared? Well, do you know where she went? Well, are you going after her? You WHAT?”

“What?” whispered Sam.

“Cas! I don’t care what Leinth told you. Don’t wait for your damned toenails to dry, go after her now!” 

Sam was torn between concern and laughing his fool ass off.

“Leinth disappeared. Come on. I have a notion where she was taken,” said Dean.

“Yeah,” said Sam. He paused a moment before hastening after his older brother, watching Knebus’ team of rescuers, assembling out on the field. He caught the eye of one guy. 

Green eyes reflected the light.

And then Sam was running after Dean.

 

“Huh. So you’re Knebus?” asked Leinth.

“I know who you are,” Knebus told her. “You’re the death of me!”

“Well, no, actually,” explained Leinth. “That’s not the way we do it nowadays.”

“SILENCE!” bellowed Knebus, who flourished his red, white and blue cape for emphasis.

“You know,” said Leinth, pointing at the floor, “there’s something you should know about me and these devil’s traps.”

“I said silence! I must go now! My minions will be here for your soon enough,” Knebus warned.

“You’re going out to try your stunt?” asked Leinth.

“Yes,” said Knebus.

“Well then,” smiled Leinth, leaning forward. “See you soon.”

Knebus cringed. And then he was out the door, Leinth grinning after him.

A few seconds later, Leinth heard the lock rattle.

“Leinth, are you all right?” asked Castiel, who had just appeared at her side.

“Leinth, are you OK?” hollered Dean, who had just broken in.

“Wow, you guys are pretty efficient,” said Leinth.

“We gotta break you out of that trap before showtime,” said Dean, pointing at the arcane marks on the floor.

“Oh, yeah, that’s the thing about me and these traps,” said Leinth. She licked her thumb and then used it to rub out a line. And then she stepped out.

“How did you do that?” asked Castiel.

“I’m only half reaper. So those traps can call me, but they can’t confine me,” explained Leinth. “Now, I’ve got some reaping to do.”

“Before we go,” said Sam, who was puffing behind Dean, “there’s something you guys should know. About Knebus’ team.”

 

The stunt was, if anything, even more of a spectacular flame out than the last one. Knebus landed head-first in the pit of fire, both setting himself on fire, and quite obviously breaking his neck, among other things.

Two ambulance attendants, who seemed to have appeared right out of the blue, were on the job with a stretcher. Quick as a wink, they scooped up Knebus’ limp body and ran out of the tent with it. They ran into a smaller structure just outside the tent, the members of Knebus’ emergency squad running full stop behind them. When the entire “team” was within, Castiel and Dean dropped the stretcher with a rude thump, and Dean yelled, “Sam!”

Sam, who had been crouching near the door, closed the door and dumped a line of salt over the threshold, effectively cutting it off. Leinth then tossed a fire bucket full of holy water on the demon rescue squad, which resulted in much screaming and hissing.

Castiel tried holding out his hand to exorcise them, but it only seemed to confuse the demons.

“Not working,” he said.

“We’ll have to do this the old fashioned way,” said Leinth, taking out her reaper blade. She slashed a demon’s throat, Sam efficiently clocked one with an iron bar, Dean stuck a knife into another one, and Castiel, not to be outdone, beheaded two at once with a sword. 

After a while, there was silence in the little hut, and a pile of demons on the floor, languishing in a pool of sticky black blood.

“Daddy says they’re not of this world,” said Leinth.

“That’s what you said. And they can go back there, as far as I’m concerned,” said Dean.

“Hey!” said Castiel, who had just grabbed a ghost.

“Oh, there you are! You’re not going anywhere!” said Leinth.

“I don’t want to go!” protested the immortal soul of Rebus Knebus, Jr. 

“Well, I can leave you, but you’re not going back in that body,” said Leinth, pointing to Knebus’s charred remains on the stretcher.

“I’m the man who cheats death! It’s not my time!” said Knebus.

“It’s your choice,” Leinth told him. “You can go quietly with me now. Or I’ll leave you for these guys to exorcise.”

“Dude,” said Sam. “Just a word of advice? I’d take her. Our stuff?”

“It can get … messy,” warned Dean.

“Screaming,” said Sam.

“Throwing up blood,” said Dean.

“Heads torn off,” said Sam.

“Limbs everywhere,” said Dean.

“Ulp,” said Knebus’ spirit.

 

“You needed to borrow Sam’s amulet?” asked Dean.

“Yeah,” said Leinth, holding the Enochian sigil in her hand as she and Dean appeared in a quiet suburban house.

“Hey, isn’t this the house where it all started?” asked Dean.

“I have been back here three times this week!” grumbled Leinth, who stalked straight for the nursery. She grabbed the baby and rolled him over on his back. He looked up and gabbled at her. “Lie babies on their backs! Their backs! How can you not know this!” she said.

“Leinth!” warned Dean, who heard the floorboards creaking.

“Good!” said Leinth. She stood by the crib, tapping her toes, until a shadowy figure opened the door and entered the room. Leinth pounced, throwing the amulet over the figure’s head.

“Oh!” gasped the woman, who could now see the reaper.

“Put babies down on their backs! Their backs!” Leinth told her.

Dean, who was still slightly confused, flipped on the lightswitch.

“I don’t know how you can’t-“ raved Leinth. “Oh,” she said.

The woman had a huge shiner, and her lip was split.

“Are you from Social Services?” the woman asked. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know. I just don’t want him to take it out on the little one too. He’s so small,” she said. She was trembling, near tears.

Dean stared at Leinth. Her dark eyes were shining. She had pulled out her blade. “He did that to you?” she whispered.

“Leinth!” said Dean, his hand on a metal crucifix that was standing on a dresser. “Wait. I think I got an idea.” He pulled the reaper aside and whispered in her ear. She nodded.

“OK. Yeah, we’re agents Holland and Dozier from Social Services,” said Dean in his “official” voice. “You got somewhere safe you could take the child for a little while?” he asked.

The bruised woman searched their faces. “My sister? I could go to my sister. For a little while.”

“Good,” said Dean.

 

Some hours later, in the same house, a man stumbled home. He had been at the bar, once again, and for far too long.

And he was not happy.

“Penny!” he called. “Penny! Where the fuck are you?” 

He stumbled into the nursery, confused that his kid didn’t seem to be around either.

He looked up.

The main light blinked, and then the lightbulb exploded.

The man heard the floorboards creek. He turned around.

“I am Castiel, angel of the lord!”

 

“You think that will convince him?” asked Sam.

“I’ve found Castiel can be very convincing when he wants to be,” laughed Dean, jumping on the hotel room bed. “And if not, he’s got a reaper angry at him.”

“A singing reaper. Who likes babies,” marveled Sam. “Oh, hey, you know that antique store down the block?”

“Yeah.”

Sam tossed Dean a paper bag. “I saw something I thought you might like.”

“What, you’re getting me depression glass now?” joked Dean, crumpling into the paper bag.

Dean gasped.

He withdrew a little red, white and blue action figure, mounted on a motorcycle.

“THIS WAS THE BEST TOY EVER!” said Dean.

“Well, it still works. I tried it. I mean, there’s no box or anything…” said Sam.

“Who needs a box!” said Dean, hopping to the floor and giving Rebus Knebus a crank.

Sam watched as the little action figure hurtled heedlessly along the floor.

“I have returned,” said Castiel, who happened to appear right in the motorcycle’s path. He managed to grab the little figure in his hand. “What is this?” he asked.

“We’re jumping motorcycles, Cas!” said Dean.

“Oh. And what is the point?” asked Castiel, handing the toy back to Dean.

“The point is, there is no point,” laughed Sam.

“Oh. That is not the first time I have heard this,” said Castiel.

 

In a remote farmhouse in Montana, an old man shuffled into his living room, painfully depositing himself down on the couch. He sighed and gasped for air from his oxygen tank.

“Oh,” he said. “Have you come for me? At last, are you mine?”

“I’ve come for you. Sorry I’m late,” said Leinth.

“That’s all right, dear,” said Rebus Knebus. “I’m ready.”

“Your son is waiting,” said Leinth.

“Oh, is he? Well, that’s good.”

“Come right here,” said Leinth, placing an arm around his shoulders.

_“Carry on my wayward son,” she sang. “There’ll be peace when you are done….”_


End file.
